


The Velvet of her Paws

by MurderInCrimson



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29548149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderInCrimson/pseuds/MurderInCrimson
Summary: Her paws, so black, like velvet.Her purrs, so sweet, like music.Her life, so short, a tragedy.A short one-shot fiction on the life of Sebastian's secret cat, Her.
Relationships: None
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	The Velvet of her Paws

**_“Her conscious tail her joy declared;_ **

**_The fair round face, the snowy beard,_ **

**_The velvet of her paws,_ **

**_Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,_ **

**_Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,_ **

**_She saw; and purred applause.”_ **

\--From  _ “Ode on the Death of a Favorite Cat Drowned in a Tub of Goldfishes,” _ by Thomas Gray

  
  


The day started just the same as any other day. The wind was fair and gentle, offering the sweet, floral notes of early spring’s blooms. Green was the grass, well trimmed and cared for, as well as the lovely leaves upon trees and bushes as they swayed in the breeze. Birds sang out pleasant chirps and tunes, pleased with themselves for simply being alive. 

The day was, however, extremely odd in one sense. 

Grelle peered down her nose, through her glasses, to a small, black cat. The poor thing was heaving, gasping for air. It had already vomited twice, though there was nothing in the creature’s stomach. Only bile, sickly acidic in smell and the color of curdled cream. Weakly, the cat looked up at her, through her, piercing her down to whatever soul a Reaper might have. 

Generally, Grelle reasoned, it was not her job to reap the soul of an animal. However, there were the rare occasions when someone such as she would be asked to do so--usually because the creature in question was something powerful, or meant something to someone powerful. She looked into her To-Die list, frowning slightly. 

“ _ Her _ . Seven years of age. Cause of death--kidney failure.”  _ Her _ ? That was certainly an odd name for a cat. Still. Grelle knelt beside the poor thing, stroking her sleek, black fur as the cat struggled to take a breath. “It’s alright, love. It’s alright.” The cat looked at her, then leaned over despite her pain and licked at the Reaper’s hand. She purred--purred!--and nuzzled into the woman’s palm. 

The creature was suffering--and yet, she was trying to offer some sort of comfort to Grelle, the Reaper to claim her soul, of all people! It hit something, deep down, inside of the redhead. It burned and hurt, pulling up memories from her past life, of a kitten she so desperately attempted to save after she had found it, drowning, in the lake near her father’s farm. 

“I’m here,” Grelle whispered, and sat down. She pulled the cat into her lap, stroking her gently, quietly. “It’s alright, love. It’s alright.” 

With a small whimper, the woman pulled forth the cat’s Cinematic Record, pushing forward with the Reaping despite the sudden and fresh spike of tears in her neon green eyes.  _ Her _ sighed, easing up against Grelle’s stomach, purring like the motor of the Reaper’s death scythe. 

Her _ had not always been named as such. Once, years ago, she had been nothing but a ragged little kitten; a black spot on the sidewalk where her mother abandoned her. She had been a sickly little thing, barely able to mew, never able to suckle from her mother. Back then, alone, cold, she should have died. _

__ _ But she did not.  _

__ _ A gentle shadow fell over the newborn. A beautiful, sweet smelling, careful shadow with far too many eyes and teeth. Still, the shadow was warm. He pulled her up into his arms, into his jacket, gloved hand stroking her with all of the love in the world.  _

__ _ “What are you doing, Sebastian?” a voice--a child?--squawked angrily from somewhere beyond the warmth of the shadow’s chest.  _

__ _ “My apologies, my young Lord. I will be right along.” The jacket opened, just so, and through  _ Her’ _ s weak senses, she could make out the heat of eyes so red they rivaled flame. “Poor thing,” the shadow whispered. “I will take you home--but you must be quiet. My Lord is not a friend to your kind.” A smile--she could feel that--and then the jacket closed again, keeping her safe, keeping her warm. _

__ _ She nuzzled up to the demon, feeling like she might just make it.  _

__ _ Years passed. Sebastian, as she came to know the shadow, brought her to a secret spot in the gardens of the Phantomhive manor. There, he protected her, visiting her as often as he could. And he gave her a name; clean and simple and pure. He called her  _ Her, _ only because no earthly name could describe her beauty.  _

__ _ She loved him, dearly, even if he squeezed her a bit too hard and enjoyed playing with her soft, velvet paws.  _

__ _ The tiny, flea-bitten kitten grew into a sleek, dainty young woman. She was as black as night, save for one white spot on her stomach. That was a secret; only she and Sebastian knew of it, and she would only show it when he was near. To him, she would purr and show her cute little stomach; for him, she would bring dead mice. Birds, she learned, her a no--he smelled too much like the big black ones that flew over the gardens sometimes.  _

__ _ One day,  _ Her _ followed Sebastian back to the manor, though she was smart enough to keep herself hidden. There was another smell upon him, sometimes--the smell of that child that had spoken, all of those years ago. Curious, the little black cat darted around the garden, up the steps to the huge house--she had no idea why humans had such a need for such things when there was a perfectly good garden outside--and slipped.  _

__ _ The smells! She could smell something cooking--roasted meat was something that Sebastian brought her on occasion, much to her delight--as well as things she did not know or understand. Furniture polish, for one. Certain flowers she was not allowed around--lilies? Is that what Sebastian had called them?--and fruits that made her want to sneeze.  _

__ _ Sniffing around, she finally made her way into a room. She could hear the soft hum of the child’s voice as he spoke, then the deeper tones of her Sebastian. Her shadow, her demon; her savior and her love. Oh, yes. She loved him, dearly; he was like a father to her, and a friend. _

__ _ And she knew he thought similar of her.  _

__ _ When the days were bad, he would come to her, seeking comfort. She would give it to him, purring as she crawled into his lap. It was her thought that humans did not know that demons could cry, that they could feel emotion. At least, her shadow certainly could.  _

__ _ There were days when he would lie with her, in the garden, his jacket off and his hands free of those damned gloves. He would run his fingers through her fur, chuckling lightly to himself when she was shedding and produced enough loose fur to make another cat. Sometimes, he would weep into her side, silently, and she would lick his tears away. There was sadness to him, and frustration.  _

__ _ She knew that the child was the reason he was so sad.  _

__ _ But she knew that the child was also the reason for Sebastian’s happiness.  _

__ _ The door was ajar, just enough for her to slip inside. She pranced up to her shadow’s leg, instantly falling into rubbing against him. With a hearty meow, she jumped up onto the desk, and peered at the boy.  _

__ _ He had a look upon his face that would have made her laugh, if she could. One eye--he had one eye, she noted--was wide with shock, small mouth opened in a gasp. Then the anger set in, and he stood up quickly.  _

__ _ “Sebastian!” he shouted. “What is this...this animal doing here? I demand you take the thing away!” He covered his face with a handkerchief.  _

__ _ “Right away, my Lord,” Sebastian hummed. He picked  _ Her _ up, lovingly, and whisked her back outside. She struggled in his grasp--she wasn’t ready to leave the manor yet, there were still things to smell!--but he held her fast.  _

__ _ “My love,” he said as he set her down in her garden. “Please. The young Lord would make me get rid of you. Do not show yourself to him.” There was that sadness again.  _

__ _ She had brought it, this time. _

__ _ With as much force as she could muster, she purred and purred and purred, forcing herself into his lap. He wrapped his arms up around her, shivering into the softness of her fur. “You keep me together, my lady. Please. Please, do not put yourself in danger like that again. I serve him--we are contracted, you see--but I am afraid he would not hesitate to...to harm you.”  _

__ Her _ reached up with her paw, gently batting at Sebastian’s hair. It brought a smile to his face--and that was all that mattered to her. She headbutted him under the chin.  _

__ _ “I love you,” she wanted to scream, but she was not human. She could only hope that her purrs and her soft mewlings would be enough to let him know.  _

__ _ She owed him everything--her life, her happiness. Everything.  _

__ At this point, Grelle took a shuddering breath. She still stroked the dying cat, her gloves off now so that she could feel the soft, ebony fur, just as she had witnessed Sebastian doing within the Cinematic Record. Was this why she was reaping this sweet little cat?  _ Her _ meant the world to a demon--and he, to her. 

Nibbling on her lower lip, she pressed on, returning her eyes to take in the life of the velvet beauty in her lap. 

_ Time passed, as it tended to do. Sebastian was gone for periods of time, leaving  _ Her _ alone. She knew how to hunt, so she was fine when it came to food. Water was easily enough to come by--she found it after it rained, and there was a fountain nearby that she could drink from. Still, with her belly full, her heart was empty.  _

__ _ When he returned to her, he was always so tired. She purred and headbutted him, nuzzling his ankles until he relented into sitting with her.  _

__ _ “You make it worth it,” Sebastian told her, once, while she was lying on his chest. She glanced at him, offering him a slow blink. He smiled, understanding her unspoken love, then pet her head. “I would do anything for you,  _ Her. _ I swear it…” He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. “You are the only creature I feel truly understands me--and I, you.”  _

__ _ She purred, licking his hand.  _

__ _ Then things began to hurt.  _

_In the weeks that followed, she began to feel weak. She had no appetite, and she was thirsty. So thirsty. Soon, she was vomiting regularly. It_ **hurt.** _More than anything she had ever known. More than she could explain._

__ _ Sebastian tended to her, as best he could--but she knew.  _

__ _ She was dying. _

__ _ She did not want to cause him that pain of watching her suffer. So, silently, she slipped away, and into the country beyond the ground of the garden she had known for her entire life. There were lilies blooming, just outside of the gates of the Phantomhive’s lands; she shot past them with fear.  _

__ _ Sebastian had told her they were bad for her. No matter how nicely they smelled, they could hurt her.  _

__ _ Gasping and panting,  _ Her _ found a secluded spot to hunker down in. Everything was spinning, spinning, spinning, the Earth and the Sky as one. _

__ _ Then came the Lady in Red. _

__ Grelle hissed to herself as the Record slipped away. She could no longer feel the cat purring against her; no. The sleek little inkspot had gone still, as still as the night and twice as cold. Her soul was still there, waiting to be retrieved in full.

Yet the Reaper could not bring herself to reap. 

“ _ My Lady?”  _ a voice called, just off in the distance. Sebastian--looking for  _ Her.  _

Grelle knew what she had to do. 

Gently, she scooped up the cat’s body into her arms. She faced the wind, letting it hit her in the face. There was a stain of black on the horizon--a shadow.  _ Her _ ’s shadow, her Sebastian. With the cat in her arms, Grelle walked to him. 

“No,” Sebastian gasped. He glared at Grelle, all anger and sadness, red and hot and burning with shadows so deep looking into them could cause madness. “You--you--”

“Hush,” Grelle said, quietly, and offered  _ Her _ to him. “She loves you, dearly--”

“And I, her,” Sebastian spat. He gathered  _ Her _ up in his arms. When she did not purr or move, he choked out a sob. Falling to his knees, he buried his face in her soft, ebony fur. “What do you want,” he gasped out, shaking. “Please...please, don’t take her away from me.” 

Grelle leaned down, too, putting her hand on his shoulder. “In her Record...you said you would do anything for her. You promised.” 

“Name your price,” he hissed. “What do you want?” 

She took a breath, gently, and brushed his hair from his eyes. She had never thought she would see a demon such as him cry. Now, he was opening weeping. Carefully, she hugged him, stroked him. When she pulled back, she realized she was crying, too. 

“...release the boy,” Grelle finally whispered. “I know he was your meal, but as a Reaper, I must ask--”

“Done.”

“What?” 

“I said, it is done. I will break my contract with him. Now, return her to me.” 

Grelle swallowed. “It...it won’t be like that, Sebastian. She will come back to you, I promise, but not in this form. She’s already gone. I...I am so, so sorry.” She bit her lip as she listened to him break, sobbing, holding the cat’s body to his face. He screamed, and roared, and cried, and broke; he was fire and flame and shadow and hate. Sorrow. So much sorry. 

Though she hated to leave him like that, she did fear for herself. With a soft kiss to his head, Grelle gathered herself and left the human realm, ready to do what she needed to to make sure that  _ Her _ returned to Sebastian in some way. 

Weeks later, the contract was broken. Everything was broken. Sebastian found himself in Hell once more, surrounded by darkness, by sin. 

Yet there was a quiet, little light that followed him one day, the shadow of it shifting and purring, until taking the form of a small, pitch black cat. 

She was home, forever more, with the demon she loved.   
  
(Dedicated to Jasper 'Squirrel Girl' Cullipher, with love.)  


**Author's Note:**

> Today is February 18th, 2021. Today, I had to put my beautiful, loving cat, Jasper, down due to her kidneys failing. I love her, more than anything else in this world. She is my everything, my daughter in fur, my little fluff ball. She was seven years old. 
> 
> I wrote this fic in hopes of getting some of my pain out. I don't know if it will work or not, but it's here. 
> 
> Remember to love one another. Give your cat or other pet a hug; you never know when today is your last day with them.


End file.
